Does it appear, in spite of the dreams,
That life has little to commend it,
The problems far outweighing rewards
Regressing farther away it seems
Reasonable acting to end it,
Without a second thought afterwards?
Is hope vapor, a gray foggy mist
That the heat of the day burns away,
Leaving dread and despair to battle
Alone, twins on an unending list
Of enemies to fight, else they may
Trample you like stampeding cattle?
Try holding on, darkest before dawn,
It may be, new plans are being drawn!
--Fr. Veni di Morte
copyright 1998, The Goober Tree Press, all rights reserved